


Falling

by speedgriffon



Series: I Shall Taunt You a Second Time | Dragonborn Fiona Fics [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst and Feels, Delvin is a perfect wing-man, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 13:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: Fiona literally cannot with her feelings. Brynjolf’s grand romantic gesture only further complicates matters. Falling in love is inevitable, it seems.





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Catching the other before they fall.  
(I went literal and also did a play on words here).

“Never thought I’d ever see you without ol’ Bryn attached to your hip!”

Fiona’s ears perked at Vex’s teasing voice, watching as the Breton slid into the vacant seat next to her at the Flaggon bar. There was something else in her tone—a little more taunting than playful, but Fiona chose to ignore it, knowing better than to take the bait Vex was trying to lay. Instead, she motioned for Vekel to serve them another round and smiled at her Guildmate.

“And where’s _your_ shadow? Did Devlin decide to leave you alone for once while you bathed tonight?”

Vex breathed a laugh, taking a short swig of her ale. “Only because I threatened to depart him from his most valuable _jewels_ if he followed me to the river,” she explained, gesturing to the dagger on her belt. “Delvin is different. I don’t _want_ his attention. You and Brynjolf on the other hand…”

“We’ve been though this before,” Fiona grumbled as she took a long sip of her drink.

“You two sure have an interesting _relationship_,” she grinned, obviously noting Fiona’s discomfort with the word. “We all get a kick out of watching the two of you dance around each other, flirting.”

“And?” Fiona probed, wondering where Vex was leading this conversation.

“I’m curious to know if you had any intention of…taking it seriously with him or not,” she replied.

Fiona raised a brow, lowering her tankard slightly to peer at the other blonde with skepticism. “Is this some sort of pep-talk? ‘Break-Brynjolf’s heart and I’ll kill you?’” she asked. “Or…are you jealous?”

Vex huffed in offense, rolling her eyes. “_No_. Most definitely not either of those things,” she began again. “I’m asking so you don’t accidentally hurt _yourself_.”

“Excuse me?”

“We both know Bryn’s reputation, how many women he’s—”

“Yes, we’ve been thought _this_ before, as well!” Fiona repeated, voice curt, teeth clenched.

She liked Vex, respected the shit out of her. Hell, even called the woman a friend. But Divines—she was a stubborn bitch sometimes. Yes, Fiona was perfectly aware of Brynjolf’s repute of a _ladies’ man_, but she was in no position to judge, or to be jealous. He was a handsome man, with an excellent physique—whatever he wanted to do with said body was his choice. Fiona had her fair share of fun and while that had slowed since her arrival in Riften, that didn’t mean _everybody_ she knew had to stop having sex.

“Why are you bringing this up again?” she questioned.

“Look, I’m only saying this because I like you and I want you to stick around and not be scared off by his stupidity,” Vex sighed, eyeing the contents of her tankard. “Did you ever think that maybe Brynjolf really is after one thing with you?”

“Yes,” Fiona answered, surprising Vex. “I’m not daft.”

Before she could continue to explain that it wasn’t what she truly thought, at least not recently, Vekel came by with a refill for Vex. He was shaking his head, lips poised in a pensive frown.

“Have _you_ given any thought that perhaps _ol’ Bryn_ has changed?” he asked.

“Pfft,” Vex waved him off as she practically inhaled her second ale.

Vekel peered at Fiona with a softer expression. “I’ve known Bryn a long time and Vex is right about one thing—we enjoy watching the two of you,” he smiled warmly and something about it that made her cheeks flush. “But because I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bryn act so…carefree. Around anyone, let alone a woman.”

“Ugh,” Vex groaned, clearly unhappy with Vekel’s sappy comments. She continued to drink.

“I also see and hear everything that happens in these Guildmember’s lives, regardless if they like it,” he made a lingering glare at Vex as she silently mocked him. “And I haven’t seen Bryn sneaking off to be with anybody since you’ve arrived. No rumors or gossip from the Bee and Barb or the bunkhouse either. Taking in the time before, that’s a considerable dry spell for him! Must account for _something_.”

“Sure, air out all of Bryn’s sex issues,” Vex mumbled.

“He’s not getting any younger,” Vekel continued, ignoring the other woman. “Not one’s _first_ reason for wanting to slow down and rethink how to go about love and romance, but perhaps he’s outgrown the wild days of his youth.”

“That’s a load of horseshit and you know it,” Vex argued, face scrunched up.

Fiona meanwhile felt her gut clench at Vekel’s use of the word _love_. He probably didn’t even realize he had used it, but it had resonated so deep within her that the rest of their conversation fell away. All she felt was an overwhelming sense of dread. Sure, she liked Brynjolf—_really_ liked him. She liked having his attention, his flirtations, his company, and everything in-between. But the thought of anything more, was terrifying. The thought of anything less—being reduced to just another roll in the hay? That was somehow entirely worse. What was so wrong about keeping their dynamic the way it was? 

Without another word she stood up, the sharp squeak of her barstool causing the two to stop whatever they were saying to stare at her in confusion. Fiona shook her head—she wanted to say something to fill the quiet, to offer some excuse, but her mind was so muffled that all she could do was sigh and walk away, defeated. She hoped the two wouldn’t read into her silence as she departed through to the Cistern.

It was out of habit that Fiona tried to find Brynjolf as she crossed through the walkway, her eyes darting across the waterways to spot the familiar auburn of his hair. Vex and Vekel’s words would continue to cause her turmoil until she could see him, speak to him about all of this. Either directly, or by some other means. Maybe it would put her mind at ease. Or ruin everything. The contingency plan Fiona always thought of when her anxiety flared flashed through her mind—_run_—but she pushed away the idea. She was past running away from her problems. Well…sort of.

Instead, all she found were the usual Guild members and Delvin, who was perched up on the counter next to the alchemy lab. He was flicking through a small notebook, lips twisting up into a smirk as he noticed Fiona approaching.

“Ah, there’s my favorite girl,” he greeted.

Fiona chuckled, shaking her head. “Your favorite? What, this week?”

Calling his bluff, Delvin copied her laugh and shut his book to give her his full attention. “Hmm, but I can tell I’m not the man you’re looking for,” he said pointedly. “Bryn isn’t around, unfortunately. Left this mornin’ on a job for Mercer.”

While Fiona tried not to react to this information, she must’ve frowned enough for Delvin to notice, his eyebrows perking up curiously. “Why? Upset he didn’t take you along? Mercer didn’t really give him the option—”

“Nothing like that,” Fiona interrupted. She understood that there were some jobs that Brynjolf had to take on his own, being the Second for the Guild. As she was still working her way through the ranks and proving her worth to the Guildmaster, she couldn’t expect to _always_ be by his side on every job.

Delvin leaned forward, still interested. “Then what is it?”

Fiona reluctantly divulged the basics of the situation to Delvin, carefully observing his features for even the slightest hint of humor or mockery. She trusted Delvin—maybe more than anyone else in the Guild besides Brynjolf—and valued his opinion, even if he was the most lecherous of them. In the months that she had known him, he had always offered the soundest advice in a straight-forward and blunt way—something she appreciated. Hopefully now he could do the same when it came to affairs that were a little more delicate.

“Well, well,” he sighed with a grin, reaching up to scratch at his jawline. “I must say my little Vex is being quite the sweetheart looking out for you, even if she’s completely baseless.”

Fiona widened her eyes, slightly shocked. “What?”

“There’s some truth to what Vekel says,” he started. “Bryn’s been acting…I wouldn’t say _strangely_, just _differently_. A good different.” Delvin’s smile grew as he thought of his friend fondly. “I’ve known that bastard longer than anyone here. If this new side of Brynjolf is here to stay, then good.”

“Even if it makes him a big ol’ romantic softy,” Delvin continued.

That alarmed Fiona. “Delvin, do you know something?”

“Hmm?” he shrugged. “He’s been going on about doin’ something nice for you, after all the good luck you’ve given us—grain of salt dear, we were about six drinks in when this topic came up.”

Regardless, this information didn’t settle right with her. If anything, it only made her feel more anxious than before. Of all the times for Brynjolf to not be in the Cistern or Riften. But he had only just left and maybe she could track him through the forest paths—she’d always been good at that. Delvin only flashed a knowing smile as she slinked away, headed for the graveyard exit.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Fiona paused, an unpleasant shiver crawling up her spine as Mercer slowly stepped to prevent her leaving. She faced him with a neutral expression, holding back the urge to shove him out of the way. She wasn’t sure _what_ was wrong with the Guildmaster, but she knew that Mercer was not a man to be trusted. Her instincts hadn’t failed her yet when traveling Skyrim, but she had to be careful now that she was seeking refuge in Riften.

“I have a job from Delvin,” she lied, knowing he must’ve seen her speaking with the Breton. “Falkreath. Should be back—”

“It will have to wait,” Mercer interrupted. “I have some work for you here in the city, so you_ won’t_ be leaving.”

Fiona didn’t appreciate his tone. If only he knew that she could tear his body to shreds with one simple shout from her lips. It would be so satisfying, but ultimately her undoing. Instead, she breathed out and nodded, taking the missive from his hand.

“We’ll be watching you.”

A threat that only had Fiona feeling more conflicted than ever. She exited the Ratways into the misty evening of the Riften courtyard, eventually finding her way to the Bee and Barb. She ordered a hot meal and mulled over her limited options as she read over the list of menial tasks Mercer wanted done. By the time she was finished, she decided to spend the evening in one of the available tavern rooms. She was aggravated with Mercer, but there was that lingering feeling that while Brynjolf was away, the Cistern was not the safest place for her to be. Dragonborn or not.

* * *

  
It was the middle of the night when Fiona awoke, suddenly sensing that something wasn’t right. She could hear the quiet sounds of the tavern downstairs—nothing sounded amiss—no brawls, no panic, yet her heart was hammering in her chest. The room was practically pitch black, save for the sliver of light coming in through the bottom of door. Fiona squinted, noticing the light was obstructed. Something—_someone_ was outside her door.

She exhaled and slowly began to move. Feet on the ground, she first reached for her dagger on the nightstand before silently creeping towards the door. An assassin? Would Mercer really stoop so low to remove her from the Guild? Worse thoughts wormed their way through her mind. Had destiny finally caught up to her by sending the Greybeards to fetch her away? There was a special irony in finding them more frightening than assassins.

Fiona carefully removed the chair she had wedged under the doorknob (she never trusted tavern locks) and then quietly unlocked the door. She jerked the door wide open but before she could drop back into a defensive stance a body came tumbling through the doorframe back-first with a loud yelp—a _familiar_ body. She scrambled to catch Brynjolf, dropping her dagger, but the combined weight of his body and the sheer shock of his appearance had them toppling to the ground.

Fiona leaned herself up and looked down at him—flat on his back, wide eyed but smiling that ever-ridiculous smile. Her eyes flicked to where his hands were clutching a bunch of parchment wrapped flowers. Her chest tightened and she gulped. Her heart was racing again, this time for an entirely different reason.

“Brynjolf?”

“Help an old man up, will you lass?”

She forced a smile and pushed herself off the floor, reaching down to tug on his free hand to pull him to his feet. Simultaneously she moved to light the oil lamp on her nightstand while he closed the door. Finally, she snatched up her night-coat from the storage-chest tugging it across her shoulders much to Brynjolf’s disappointment as she covered up the exposed skin her nightgown showed. His eyes still flickered as he looked over her form, silently drinking her in.

They met halfway, standing near the foot of the bed. Fiona didn’t feel uncomfortable, per-say, just nervous. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. Her gaze danced across his arms where the bundle of flowers was, and he softly laughed. “I brought you these, I hope they are to your liking.”

She gasped when he handed them over, their color visible now in the light. Yellow-mountain flowers. Incredibly rare and her absolute favorite. Fiona racked her mind trying to recall when she had ever told Brynjolf about them when she was hit with a sudden wave of collected memories. Falkreath—_months_ ago now, when they barely knew each other, and were making an effort to learn more. But they had been drinking, and she didn’t think that he was paying attention, let alone that he would remember.

“Brynjolf, I—” she breathed, overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say.” When she looked at him again he was smiling, a mix of self-satisfaction and wonderment as he watched her reaction. She found it incredibly difficult to focus on the shine of his eyes. “This seems like quite the grand gesture, even for you, Bryn. Where did you even find them?”

“It’s a secret,” he teased. “I’ll take you there one day.”

All of Fiona’s earlier emotions came crashing down, causing an incredible ache to her chest. She blinked hard to prevent the sting of tears that threatened to develop, not wanting to cry in front of him. Not over something like this.

“What are you doing, Bryn?” she asked, bluntly. She decided direct honesty would be best this time. “Whatever it is, I like what we have _now_. I don’t want that to change.”

Brynjolf’s demeanor didn’t change, as if he hadn’t just been rejected—to some degree. He shifted closer, hands covering hers. She didn’t pull away.

“I think it’s a little late for that, lass.”

The worst part was that he was right. 

**Author's Note:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


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